


December-perfect Evenings

by oftirnanog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftirnanog/pseuds/oftirnanog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus comes in from the snow, snuggling and banter ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December-perfect Evenings

Snow is falling whisper-soft against the window like timid fingers on the smooth skin of a belly. It follows Remus inside, on his coat and in his hair. Sirius, snug inside one of Remus’ wool sweaters, pads to the front door on sleep-heavy feet. He observes a windswept Remus, whose hair is stuck up at odd angles (much like James’ unruly mop), and grins.

            “Still snowing, then?” he asks.

            “Mhmm,” Remus murmurs, brushing off his coat and stomping out his boots.

            “Hurry up with that, will you?” Sirius says as Remus peels off snow-soaked layers.

            Remus casts him a quizzical look as he bends over to remove wet socks.

            “ ‘M cold, Moony,” Sirius says, moving closer to Remus.

            “You realize you’re speaking to someone who’s just come in from the snow, right?” Remus replies with the slight arch of an eyebrow. But he straightens and presses his hands over Sirius’ anyway, warm werewolf blood heating icy Black fingers.

            “ ‘S not fair,” Sirius mutters. “You’re always warm.”

            “Yes, well, there had to be _something_ positive in being a werewolf,” he says, drawing closer to Sirius. “Why are your hands always so bloody cold, anyway?” he asks, fingers still twined in Sirius’.

            “So you can warm them up,” Sirius grins.

            “Daft soppy bastard,” Remus says fondly.

            Sirius responds by kissing him. Remus tastes of chocolate and tea, and Sirius chases the flavour around Remus’ tongue, across the roof of his mouth. Hot, sweet slide of lips and Sirius hums appreciatively.

            “Missed you,” he says. And what he means is ‘I love you’ and ‘I want you’ and ‘Don’t you dare ever leave me.’

            “You too,” Remus responds, an unspoken promise of ‘Not for anything in the world’ nestled between them.

            Sirius tries to remember which fingers are his so he can take them back, but gives up and buries his face in Remus’ neck instead. He smells of books and ozone, like a library covered in snow. Sirius breathes deeply and presses his lips against the soft skin where Remus’ ear meets his jaw. He feels Remus shiver and it has nothing to do with the snow.

            Remus moves and captures Sirius’ lips in a kiss again. In the midst of dancing tongues and fluttering hands, fingers catching in hair and hips pressing forward, they maneuver themselves towards the sofa where they collapse into a heap of limbs. Sirius arches up toward the splay of Remus’ fingers against his belly. Remus chuckles, a low rumble that resonates in Sirius’ bones, that tingles in his elbows and his ribs and the backs of his knees.

            Sirius catches a glimpse of the crescent moon through the snow-blurred window, gleaming innocently, though Sirius knows better. He shifts so they are side-by-side, knees knocking together, hips jutting in awkward places, but he presses his lips to Remus’ and it doesn’t matter. They’ve grown accustomed to this strange, hard sharpness, so different from the soft curves of girls. Lanky boy limbs intertwining like coiled wires ready to spring.

            Sirius moans into Remus’ mouth, chases the lingering burn of chocolate still hanging there. Remus tightens his arms around Sirius’ waist and Sirius wants to keep this December-perfect evening forever.

 


End file.
